


Tempest

by rivalshipping



Category: DMMd, DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Fluff, Hospitals, Insecurity, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivalshipping/pseuds/rivalshipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Aoba whispered between kisses...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> for button
> 
> will possibly have a continuation but no promises

Mizuki blinked awake, turning more onto his side than his back in the stiff, uncomfortable hospital bed. The movement made his spine twinge and his leading shoulder tingle but he ignored it in favor of the marginally more comfortable position. Only when he had finally settled and the slight pain in his back and neck returned to its throbbing, deep soreness did he wonder why he was awake at all. The curtains on the window near his bed were drawn tightly shut, but from what he could see the sky was empty and dark, too much light pollution to reveal any stars but still dark enough to seem eerie and cold, despite the closed glass.

He frowned slightly and blinked again. The curtains on the window fluttered and Mizuki pulled his meager hospital blanket more tightly about himself, barely stifling the pained scream that bubbled up to his lips at the sharp movement. He was quite recently off his morphine drip, so getting up to close the window probably would not make him pass out like the last time he stood without aide, but he didn’t want to take chances so late in the night.

A figure suddenly appeared out of the shadows on the other side of his bed and he gasped, sitting up instantly and scrambling frantically for the button to call a nurse. “Mizuki, it’s me!” a familiar voice hissed urgently.

Mizuki let his hand drop into his lap, breathing hard and staggered. “Aoba,” he said. “Why--?”

“I had to see you,” Aoba interrupted. “I didn’t get a chance to visit today and…” He twisted his hands together, coming closer so Mizuki could see more than just his vague outline. “Well…”

Mizuki’s fear had long since mellowed, and he patted the spot beside him on the bed. “I didn’t mean it like I didn’t want you here,” he amended in a soft voice. “I just… I’m sorry; I didn’t think to message you.”

Aoba got that frustrated look he wore around Mizuki sometimes, and the bedridden man shrank back a bit. “ _I’m_ sorry, Mizuki. You don’t have to message me when I don’t show up.” He waved his hand to dismiss the conversation, leaning over to reach into the visitors chair before accepting the invitation to sit beside Mizuki on the rickety bed. He spread out a thick blue blanket on top of Mizuki, obviously from his own home from the two patches near the bottom, and once again stood to reach over the other man and make sure the blanket was completely covering him.

“Th-thank you!” Mizuki said earnestly, smiling up at Aoba, whose soft hair seemed to glow in the moonlight and whose gold-green eyes shined kindly at him. Aoba’s hair was a burst of color in the pale white room, something that never failed to lift Mizuki’s spirits just a bit. He stopped staring when Aoba tipped his head curiously, instead dropping his gaze to his own hands.

The adrenaline of Aoba’s arrival seemed to wear off all at once. Mizuki bit down hard on his lower lip, his back shooting pains all the way into his skull. He knew he couldn’t hide all of his pain from Aoba, not with the man sitting right next to him, so he allowed a sharp gasp to escape him. That gasp turned into a whimper, and then a shuddering sob. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Just a second.”

He felt more than heard Aoba shifting near him, and then he was enveloped in warmth. Aoba used his hand to pull Mizuki’s head toward him, letting him hide his face in the juncture of Aoba’s neck and shoulder, and his other hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles into his lower back. Mizuki was relaxing by increments while Aoba only seemed to get tenser. Before Mizuki could mention it, Aoba was leaning slightly away. Mizuki was quick to release him, pulling his hands back and once again folding them in his lap to maybe preserve some of the warmth in them—he loved the comfort but wouldn’t take any more than Aoba allowed—but then Aoba was pressing sweet, gentle kisses to his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Aoba whispered between kisses, brushing his nose slowly through the fringe of Mizuki’s hair as he kissed his brow and lifted his hands to frame Mizuki’s face. “Do you need me to get a nurse?”

Mizuki was still terribly unused to this kind of attention from Aoba. The man had only ever been his friend—his best friend—but soon after Mizuki awoke from his Scrap-induced delirium Aoba had expressed a kind of tentative interest in making their relationship more romantic. Mizuki was still doped up and confused, but he was not going to turn away a chance to be ever closer to Aoba and accepted on the spot. The soft kisses and softer touches were odd but comforting, and he would do whatever he could to keep them.

Speaking of. Mizuki shook his head as lightly as he could without disengaging Aoba’s lips. “They make me drowsy. I don’t want your visit to have gone to waste,” he rasped, wishing to be closer to Aoba but unsure of how to move without further pain.

Aoba pressed a final kiss to his forehead, harder than the others, before standing, striding quickly to the door. “The nurses won’t be in to check on you until ten tomorrow, right?” he asked. At Mizuki’s tentative nod, he smirked and locked it. “Good. How am I for a non-drowsy painkiller?”

Smiling as much as he could without the fake feeling straining his mouth, Mizuki shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll end up watching me sleep.” He glanced to the slightly open window. “Sorry, I’m just… I was worried today, and I think I stressed myself out too much.” He trailed off until he was almost inaudible, his gaze straying from the window to the floor and back to Aoba.

Aoba’s devious smirk had dropped and he looked stricken; Mizuki instantly wanted to take his words back. There was the slight squeaking of shoes on linoleum for a moment, and then Aoba was back at his side, thumbs rubbing oh-so-gently at the red skin under his eyes. Mizuki didn’t realize he had started to cry again until Aoba’s action—he startled and shied away, but Aoba’s hands followed him. “Mizuki…” Aoba murmured.

“Sorry.” Mizuki ducked his head, lip trembling. Aoba toed off his shoes, threw his jacket to the floor, and climbed into the bed, slowly shifting Mizuki onto the side that was more comfortable for him. Aoba’s arm came around him to rest across his chest, palm pulling him further into Aoba’s warm body. Mizuki savored the heat, wrapping his hands around Aoba’s.

“It was my fault, Mizuki,” Aoba said against the nape of his neck. “Please don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” 

Mizuki shivered and sighed. “It’s okay. You’re busy. I can’t expect you to… to give up all your time for me.”

Aoba held him ever closer. “You can and you should. When you’re out of here I’ll prove it to you,” he said. “You’re coming home with me and _I’m_ taking care of _you_ for once.”

Doubtful but unwilling to argue the point lest Aoba leave his side, Mizuki gave in to the urge to shut his eyes and let the feeling of Aoba’s heartbeat on his back lull him into a fitful sleep.  
\---  
Gasping and trembling, Mizuki jerked awake from a painful nightmare. He stood trapped inside his own head, pounding against invisible walls and screaming to for someone to help him. Aoba stood a few feet from him, mouthing something over and over again, getting more insistent with each repeat, but Mizuki couldn’t make out what it was.

Being awake only brought back the nerve pain from the day before. Thankfully the nightmare was dissipating more quickly every second his eyes were open. Even more thankfully he felt Aoba’s chest against his back and arm across his chest, the other man almost fever hot with sleep.

“Mizuki?” Aoba murmured sleepily over his shoulder. He raised his arm a bit to look at his Coil. “It’s barely seven. What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare.” Mizuki held his breath and turned quickly, pressing his nose and mouth into Aoba’s chest and exhaling in a rush.

Aoba wrapped both arms around his back and hummed curiously, stroking his hair and making sure the blankets were still tucked tightly around them. “You’re alright now, Mimi.” Mizuki blushed crimson at the nickname, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

He fought it down and cleared his throat. “I am.” He felt the back of his eyes and nose prickling in warning of tears but pressed on, fisting his hands in the hem of Aoba’s shirt. “If you have time today, can you visit again? Please?”

Aoba sighed sharply, a sound Mizuki automatically associated with his frustrated expression even though he couldn’t see it. “Of course I’ll visit. I’ll bring you some real food for lunch.”

Mizuki’s smile returned full force and he looked up, catching Aoba’s gaze. “Thank you,” he breathed in earnest. Aoba grinned back and kissed him.


End file.
